


Unaffiliated

by Saturn_the_Almighty



Series: He Looks Good In Red [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A little bit of Locus' past, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cute, Donut's Wine and Cheese night, Gen, He Looks Good In Red, Locus takes too long to realize he's a red, M/M, Mild Language, Red Team Locus, References to nightmares, post s15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12960921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Saturn_the_Almighty
Summary: Locus stuck around after Wash recovered. The Reds lowkey want a badass on their team too. Blue team has two already.Moments in time as Locus becomes just a little more Red.





	Unaffiliated

Simmons was taking too long to make dinner. Grif needed something to fill the silence with, so he started up their old game agin. One from before things sent to utter shit.

"How about the power to turn invisible, but only when no one's looking?" He rested his chin in his hand and watched Simmons move around their makeshift kitchen. He could practically see the gears turning in Simmons' head.

"That ability has no tactical advantage. What would be the purpose?" Grif jumped, still not used to the sound of Locus' voice. Not to mention he was still in the habit of walking around with his cloaking device active. Grif shrugged, talking to the empty air in front of him and hoping Locus was nearby.

"It's stupid. There is no purpose. This is just a game." He looked around, straining to see the telltale shimmer of cloaking that Wash had once told him to look for. He spotted it just before Locus deactivated it and came into view. "A game? Hmmm. Interesting."

He was still for a moment and no matter how long he'd known Locus, Grif still didn't like that fact that he couldn't see his eyes behind that helmet. But he wasn't going to be the one to tell him to take it off. "How about heat vision but only when your eyes are closed?" Locus offered. His voice was stiff with uncertainty. Grif guessed maybe that was why he wore the helmet. He was too easy to read, even just his voice.

Simmons piped up, waving around his spatula for effect. "That's so stupid. It's perfect. I really think you're getting the hang of this. Just like a true Red." He put on a triumphant smile and ignored the scoff that Grif gave. Locus resisted the urge to cloak again and sprint out of the room. It was suddenly very stuffy. He spoke slowly and deliberately, putting a lid on any emotions that might dare and escape through his voice.

"I am not affiliated with either team." Grif rolled his eyes grandly. He turned to stare right at Locus, despite not knowing where his eyes were. "Sure you're not." he sounded so utterly unconvinced. Locus didn't say anything else. He turned and walked out of the kitchen without turning on his cloaking.

He _wasn't_  affiliated.

* * *

 

Locus was just finishing his patrols and was putting his rifle up on the rack in the Red Base garage when a hand stuck out from under the warthog. It was a rough, calloused hand with short stubby fingers. Clumps of partially singed wiry gray hair trailed down from the forearm. The hand was covered with black grease.

"Samuel! Give me a hand with this. I need that wrench." Sarge, the owner of the hand, shouted at him and pointed animatedly at a comically oversized wrench just out of reach. Locus was taken aback by the fact that Sarge had used his real name. His _first_  name.

It was nice to be called something other than Locus. Nice not to have to use code names anymore. Locus bent down and picked up the wrench. As he handed it to Sarge, he caught sight of his face, scarred and smeared with grease. He was smiling like it was Christmas.

"Heh, loyal like a true Red." Sarge accepted the wrench and went back to his work, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like one of the tracks on Lopez's mix tape. Locus stood back up and shook his head as he headed into Red Base.

Not affiliated.

* * *

 

When Simmons had accidentally pulled down a wall for the fifth time in a week, he threw up his hands in exasperation and shouted "This base _sucks!_ " He didn't care that it was Sarge who had built it. It was tiny and it leaked in the rain and if that wasn't bad enough, Carolina had built a brand-new base for the blues and it was awesome. It kept mocking them from across the valley. Red base sucked.

"Wow Simms, took you long enough to realize. What's it going to be next? You've discovered that Wash and Tucker are fucking? Big surprise." Grif was sitting on the old worn-out couch in the common area with a bag of chips on his chest. Locus was trying to repair his cloaking device.

"Why don't you just build a new base?" he asked, tired of hearing Grif insult Simmons' deduction skills. That got them both to stop and stare at him in disbelief. Grif sat up. "What? Sarge is the only one with any construction skills and this is the best he can do. We're not going to get a better base than this unless Sarge lets Carolina build it for us... Which he won't."

Locus got up and left the room. He searched for Lopez, and eventually found him fiddling around with Freckles' tiny body on a boulder between the bases. < _"We need to build a new Red Base," > _he decided, walking up to Lopez and sitting down on the boulder next to him. He spoke in Spanish, hoping it might help sway Lopez's decision.

Lopez didn't look up. < _"And what do you want me to do about it? I don't need a place to sleep. Why should I care about those morons?" >_ Lopez droned. Locus made a half-growling noise. < _"Because I need a place to sleep and Red Base is the only place I can." >_ He leaned over menacingly. < _"And because I need you to help." >_

Lopez, being completley terrified by Locus, resigned. < _"Fine." >_ He put down Freckles and started stomping off toward Red Base. In the morning, when all four of the remaining Red Team members awoke to find themselves in a substantially more structurally sound and waterproof base, complete with separate bedrooms, Simmons may or may not have cried. When Donut tried to interrogate him, Locus denied having anything to do with it, even though there was a convenient extra bedroom for himself. Whoever built it must have miscounted, because Locus wasn't on Red Team.

He was unaffiliated.

* * *

 

When Samuel Ortez sat down for the first time to eat a formal meal with Red Team, Donut was the first to put down his fork and demand he take off his helmet. "Sam, we're eating, take off your helmet." Donut used such a commanding tone even Lopez shied away.

Grif nodded. "Yep. How would you even eat with it on?" Locus payed Grif no mind.

"I - I have scars." He knew his excuse was a weak one, especially when Donut narrowed his eyes and silently gestured to the mangled right side of his face. "No, _I_ have scars. And the rest of us do too." He waved his hand at the others, indicating Simmons' Half-robotic face and Grif's pale contrasting skin grafts. Sarge had a particularly nasty slice across his cheek that trailed over the bridge of his nose.

Locus made a half-sigh half-whine and brought his hands up to the seal on his helmet. He took his sweet time unclamping the seals and lifting the helmet off his head. His eyes flicked over the faces at the table as they all let out a collective gasp. Donut had a huge grin on his face.

Sarge choked on whatever he was drinking and began filling the empty silence with a violent coughing fit. He kept stealing glances up at Locus while he tried to get his lungs under control. Simmons was whispering something to Grif with a frantic tone, and to be honest, it sounded like Esperanto. Grif was nodding along like he understood.

Lopez, despite still having his own helmet on, rolled his eyes. < _"He's not that good-looking," >_ he muttered. Donut and Grif both gave him equally disapproving looks. "Shut up, Lopez. Don't listen to him, Sam," Grif assured him. Donut nodded. "Yeah, I'd sure let you glaze my donut!" Locus frowned and chose to ignore Donut's comment. Sarge had stopped coughing now and giving Locus a very hard to read stare. He didn't know wether that was a good thing.

"You're quite the looker, Samuel. And everyone knows the Reds are more good-looking." Locus wished he had his helmet back on so he could hide the flattered smile threatening the corners of his mouth. Eventually, everyone claimed down and they enjoyed a relatively Peaceful dinner, unless you count all the glances the Reds thought Locus didn't notice.

* * *

 

Grif liked to spend most of his time on the new, sturdy roof of Red Base. He had set up a hammock shortly after it was built and one could find him up there with Simmons more often than not. Today, he was alone. The sky was as blue as it got, with wispy clouds every so often. There was a nice breeze that softened the heat from the star. Red Base had a lovely view of the lake where Grif could see Simmons and Caboose making sandcastles and Carolina doing laps in the distant water.

"Hello, Grif."

Grif jumped at the noise and turned round to see a surprisingly uncloaked and armor-less Locus walking up to him. "Jesus Christ, Sam, what?" Grif put a hand to his chest to slow his rapidly beating heart. Who just walked up on a guy like that? Locus' mouth twitched at the name. It was still something he wasn't quite used to, but he liked it.

It sounded nice.

He suddenly thought back to when Felix had used it. It never sounded nice then. He only used it when he wanted something. It always sounded like he was stealing it, mangling it and spitting it back up as his own. But it sounded nice now. When Grif said it effortlessly, when Sarge used his full name like it was praise.

It was nice.

Locus shook himself out of his thoughts and held up the small package he held in his hand. "I ordered this for you. It came in today's supply drop." The supply drop that came from Armonia every two weeks had today landed by the boulder that Lopez liked to sit on. Locus had been there with him, tinkering with a rudimentary projector of sorts. Grif looked down at what Locus had and almost fell out of his hammock. His yes went wide and he snatched it from Locus' grasp.

"Holy shit! I didn't even know they still had Oreos on Chorus!" He tore open the pack and gingerly took out one single cookie. He turned it over in his hand like it was an expensive diamond. He looked back up at Locus and after a second of internal deliberation, handed the Oreo to him. Locus looked stunned. He looked from the cookie to Grif and back. Grif frowned.

"Don't look so surprised, I give one to everyone. Well, everyone on Red Team." He shrugged and lay back down in the hammock. Locus nodded stiffly and began to walk away. Grif called after him as he was on his way down the stairs. "Hey Sam? Thanks." He gave him a lazy finger salute and closed his eyes to nap. Locus continued walking. He popped the cookie in his mouth. It was good, even if it _was_  only given to Red Team members.

And Locus was unaffiliated.

* * *

 

Locus wandered into the kitchen at an unearthly hour looking for something to eat and more importantly, something to take his mind off his nightmares. He spotted Simmons sitting at table with his robot arm disconnected. He was trying to operate a screwdriver with just one hand. Locus forgot about food and sat down next to Simmons. He moved his hand tentatively. "May I...?" He asked, indicating the screwdriver.

Simmons nodded, not saying a word, and let Locus fiddle with the tension of his arm and adjust the springs and other little things. When he was done, Simmons reattached his arm and gave a few experimental stretches. He smiled. "Thanks. It's... It's hard sometimes. I feel like I have to do this on my own. Like this has to be the one thing I take care of by my self else it'll make me seem weak."

Locus sighed. His broad shoulders slumped, almost in defeat. "I learned the hard way that no matter how strong you think you are, there's never any weakness in asking for help. It just proves that you know how to trust." He stood up and have Simmons a pat on the shoulder.

"Get some sleep," he mumbled as made his way back to his own room. Locus woke up in a cold sweat three more times before the star rose. Thankfully, he hadn't screamed.

* * *

 

Locus knocked at Donut's door, having learned to never under any circumstances open it unless Donut himself came and did it. Donut opened the door with a flourish. "Oh hi, Sam! What brings you here? Do you need some scented candles?" Locus shook his head.

"Donut... I would like to... Talk about feelings. Preferably with copious amounts of alcohol." He found the door jam very interesting in that moment.

Donut gave him warm, genuine smile. "Of course, come in!" He stepped back and let Locus into his room. Donut's room was exactly what he had expected. It followed a distinct color palette that complimented Donut's armor. There was a big white fluffy rug in the center of the room and one small candle burning on his bedside table.

"Sooooo, who did you want to talk about? Felix? Wash? Oh oh, is it Sarge?" Donut asked as he pulled a bottle of honest to goodness wine from who-knows-where. "Sorry I don't have any cheese, we ran out and the next drop isn't coming for eight more days." Locus sat down across from Donut on the rug and shook his head.

"No. It's not about any of them.. Well, it's a little bit about Felix. And Sarge _does_  keep staring at me for longer than necessary." he furrowed his brow in concentration. Donut waved his hand about. "That's probably because he thinks your really pretty. We all do. I can see why Felix liked you so much." Locus winced at the mention of _Felix liking him_. He didn't want to think about that. He hated to. It opened far too many old wounds. Donut looked sheepish.

"Sorry. Too soon?" Locus nodded. Donut patted his leg and gave a sympathetic smile. "Okay, what did you really come here for?" He handed Locus a glass of wine in- yes indeed- a real wine glass. Donut never ceased to amaze him. Locus sighed. "I have nightmares about him. Still. After over a year I still think about him. I don't want to. I've tried plenty of remedies but he always comes back to haunt me." Locus stared into his glass. "It's only a matter of time before they get so bad I start- start screaming. It happened the same way after I got my scar."

Donut sat and listened in silence, nodding and humming in agreement. "Well, I had a few bad boyfriends back in the day. I just went right up them and told them I didn't want them inside me anymore." He nodded resolutely. Locus furrowed his brow. "This is different. He's dead." Donut shrugged. "All my boyfriends are dead now too. Except Doc, but he's too sweet to die." Donut glanced over to a picture of himself and Doc, out of armor, with their arms around each other smiling like idiots. Locus had a picture of himself and Felix like that.

He had burned it.

Locus finished off his wine and held out his glass for Donut to refill. "I just don't want to alarm any of you if I wake up screaming in the middle of the night." Donut shrugged. "Simmons does that sometimes." Locus looked at him skeptically. "It's almost always nightmares. Unless Grif is in there with him. My point is, I'm no stranger to my friends waking up screaming. Hell, Sarge woke up one night and nearly blew my head off with his shotgun."

Locus looked puzzled. "Sarge has nightmares?" He had long since given up referring to him as 'the Sargent' and it hard to imagine him being scared of something enough to get nightmares. Donut nodded.

"Yep. He told me once that they're mostly about the Meta. We fought him once on a cliff and Sarge got choked out by him. It was pretty bad. He had bruises on his neck for months after and it would sometimes startle him in the mirror." Locus thought quietly. He didn't want to dwell on Sarge's trauma anymore. Back to business.

"If I start screaming... And I don't wake up... Don't try to wake me with touch." Donut looked disappointed. Locus elaborated. "I get violent, I might hurt you. I was there when you woke Washington up and he nearly slit your throat. I'm worse." Donut nodded solemnly. "Okay. I'll be careful. Do you... Have any music that you like? Or dislike?" Locus thought for a moment. "I hate pop music. Felix listened to it nonstop. Sometimes I wish I had tossed him out a Pelican when I had the chance," Locus grumbled. Donut nodded.

"Okay, I'll play pop music then. Do you think you hate it enough to wake up?" Locus shrugged. "If it's bad enough, I should." Donut scribbled something on a notepad and put it aside. "Well then, let's stop thinking about depressing things like dead boyfriends. Do you want a manicure?" Donut stood up and went over to his dresser (where did her get that?) and took a bottle of nail polish off it. He sat back down and showed it to Locus.

"Sorry, red is the only color I have." Locus shrugged. "That's not too bad. It could be orange," he pointed out. Donut took Locus' hand and opened up the bottle. "True."

* * *

 

Locus was sitting on the beach enjoying yet another beautiful day. Tucker was lounging in the starlight watching Wash race Carolina across the lake. He turned his attention from them and looked over at Locus. His brow furrowed as he stared down at Locus' hands. "What are you looking at?" Locus demanded, still not used to people staring so much, especially at his hands.

Tucker pointed. "Your fingernails... Are red." He sounded borderline disgusted as he stared at the bright red polish Locus was wearing. Locus stared too. It was pretty red. But he wasn't affiliated.

Then again, he was living in Red Base (that he built). He had gone to Donut's wine and cheese night. He had helped repair Simmons' prosthetics and Grif had shared his food with him. Not to mention Sarge thought he was... Pretty. Maybe he was a little affiliated. Locus held up his hand and admired the way his fingernails shined in the light. He looked over at Tucker.

"Yes? That's because I'm on Red Team." His tone left no room for argument. It was decided. Donut waved him over from where he was burying Sarge in sand. "Sam! C'mere and help!" Locus stood up and gave Tucker one last look. "I believe the phrase is... 'Suck it, Blues?'"

He watched as Tucker's mouth opened in disbelief. He was still gaping as Locus- Sam made his way over to Donut and helped pile sand around Sarge's head. They made Caboose think he was just a disembodied head and scared the hell out of him.

As Sam sat in the sand laughing at something Grif had said, a real genuine laugh that was loud and rumbling and full of mirth, he realized that maybe being affiliated wasn't such a bad thing. After all, he did look good in red.

**Author's Note:**

> This was quite the learning curve for me. Hopefully I can write Locus better after this.
> 
> I really just wanted to write my take on Locus' integration into Red Team. And I'm not big into rarepairs, but Sarge/Locus kinda stole my heart after it was confirmed that Sarge is canonically bi.
> 
> As much as I enjoy getting kudos, I love getting comments even more!
> 
> HEY HEY look at this insanely adorable art Lou did for Locus' helmet reveal scene!  
> https://lousartshop.tumblr.com/post/168401062359/this-was-supposed-to-just-be-me-trying-to-get-a
> 
> I love Sarge's face, you can SEE the emotion. Just great. So great.


End file.
